She’s Great

Such pretty eyes, and a farmhouse inside her
fifteen miles from any town, and her torso

holds a kitchen table where her parents sit
beneath all the bright and wholesome

cages they’ve hung, chewing their honeyed wax.
And there are several dogs, a hawk, and

a tiny breeze. I wake up with a map
in my fist and let it go. Always I

let it go, and it goes.

Drunken BoatISSN#1537-2812Drunken Boat is an online literary journal of the arts. All materials on this site are the sole property of the artists and may not be reproduced for any purpose without permission.